The Wife He Buried in the Snow

My phone is buzzing on the slate countertop when I come back.

Not back from anywhere. I'm standing in my own kitchen with a coffee that's still hot, and the date on the lock screen says January 26, and the last thing I remember is the stairwell concrete on my cheek and not being able to feel my hands anymore.

The notifications stack themselves up while I watch.

*Voss Family (5)*.

I open it.